


Protect and serve

by Dkpetersen26



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, game of thrones
Genre: F/M, Robb might seem OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 17:13:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7276738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dkpetersen26/pseuds/Dkpetersen26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've very quickly decided that Drunk Margaery is one of my favorite characters to write. And, if this confuses people, don't worry. All will be cleared up in a few chapters.</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**"Police!"** Robb ducked behind a corner as a hail of gunfire erupted from inside the building. Jon threw a flash-bang and shielded his eyes. The gunfire stopped as the gunmen staggered, blinded. Robb and Jon moved in, tackling them. _"Officer down!"_ Patrek Mallister screamed over the radio. "Get him out, then! Robb and I are inside!" Jon yelled in response. Robb fired a few shots as another man charged through the door in front of him. "I'm moving into the basement!"

 _Stay calm, you're going to be alright. The police are here, they'll take care of us._ Margaery huddled into a corner, listening to the gunfire and the screams get louder and closer. She couldn't help but scream as the door flew open. "Hands where I can see them!" The officer barked. Margaery tried to stop her hands from shaking as she held them up. "Is my brother alright?" The officer scanned the room and spoke into his radio. "The basement's clear. All hostages secured." He held out his hand. "What's his name?" Margaery took it and he pulled her up. "Loras, Loras Tyrell." He nodded and kept a hand on her back as they walked out. "Jon!" He called out to one of the other officers. "Did they get a look at Loras Tyrell?" Jon nodded. "The one with the flower tattoos? Yeah. He's in bad shape, they're taking him to the ER." Margaery nodded gratefully. _Thank God, he's alive._

Margaery sat in the back of an ambulance holding a shock blanket around herself as news agencies, paramedics and police officers roamed around, doing their various jobs. She gave her statement to an officer with pale eyes and thin lips and let her thoughts float elsewhere. "Margaery!" She snapped back to the real world and embraced her brother. "Garlan, is Loras okay?" Her brother's hug was almost crushing but at that moment she didn't care. "He's been taken for scans but the doctors say he'll be fine. Mum and Dad are at the hospital with him and Wilias and Grandmother say they'll be on the next flight here." Tears of relief sprang to her eyes. _Thank God._ "Miss Tyrell?" The officer who'd helped her poked his head in the ambulance. He'd taken his helmet and mask off, leaving curly red hair and a handsome face with kind, blue eyes. "She already gave a statement. Can I take her home yet?" Garlan snapped. The officer shook his head. "I'm not here for a statement. I came to give you this." He held out a business card. "If you need to speak to someone, this is the best psychiatrist you'll find. My sister was in an abusive relationship some time ago and he really helped her out. He's not a cannibal, I promise." Margaery giggled and took the card, letting her gaze linger on his face. "Thank you, for everything." The officer smiled. "I'm just doing my job." He looked over her shoulder. "Sam!" The paramedic looked around. "Oh, hello." They shook hands. "How's the wife?" Sam, the paramedic, grinned. "She's fine. We're expecting next month." The officer patted his arm. "You're going to be a wonderful father, Sam. Seriously brilliant." Sam blushed, "I hope so... I mean, yes. I'll be f-fine. Arya bought me one of those baby dolls to practice with." The officer raised an eyebrow. "I wondered what that was for." He put a hand on Margaery's shoulder. "If you need anything else, I'm happy to help." She smiled and nodded her thanks. Garlan patted her back. "Let's get you home."


	2. Chapter 2

"Renly, I'm fine." Margaery pushed her way past him to her pigeon hole. "Marge, you don't look fine. You shouldn't be at work." She glanced at the mirror. _It's just tiredness, a bad hair day, I got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning._ "Renly, I mean it. Stop being so overbearing. Garlan and Willias are bad enough as it is, just pay attention to someone who needs it like, I don't know, your boyfriend?!" Renly grabbed her arm. "Whoa, that's a low blow, even for you, Margaery. I'm not a doctor, the best way for me to help Loras is to make sure you're okay and right now, you look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards." Margaery wrenched free. "Fine, you're right. I'm not okay. Not okay with you breathing down my neck, behaving like an overcompensating stepdad. Will you please just let me do my fucking job?" Not waiting for a response, she picked up her papers and folders and walked away. "By the way, your new teaching assistant should be with you in a little while. She got stuck in traffic." Margaery stopped dead in her tracks. "I didn't ask for an assistant." Renly shrugged, "Welp, you're getting one anyway. Her name's Sansa and I think you'll like her. You know, try not to be complete bitch to the people trying to help you." Margaery sighed and walked away, seething.

A knock on the door made Margaery look up from her marking. A tall, skinny redhead with very long legs stepped into the classroom. "Miss Tyrell?" Margaery stood and smiled. "You must be Sansa. Please, just call me Margaery." They shook hands. _There's something familiar about her._ "Um, okay. Sorry, this is my first real job at a school. My sister teaches judo here but I never really interacted with the kids all that much." She pulled a laminated schedule out of her handbag. "Mr Baratheon gave me this, he said you could explain the basics to me." _Typical Renly._ Margaery huffed. "Alright, let's see..."


	3. Chapter 3

"Sit down, kids!" Margaery told her students. She scanned the room and counted them, ticking them off as she went along. "...eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty one. Okay, is that everyone?" The class murmured an affirmative. _Very enthusiastic._ Margaery clapped her hands for silence. "Alright, then. For those of you who had different teachers last year or have simply forgotten who I am over the holidays, my name is Miss Tyrell and I'll be teaching you history for this year. I'd also like to introduce Miss Stark." She gestured towards the pretty redhead sat at the back of the classroom. "She's here to help us out, so she gets the same respect from you that I do, understood?" Just one lone voice piped up, "Yes, miss." _Oh, dear God. This is going to be a very long year._

"If you have read the introduction to the D-day landings, well done. If you haven't done that, read it while we watch the video and finish off the notes for homework, okay?" Margaery scribbled the instructions on the whiteboard. She switched off the classroom lights and sat back in her chair, sipping her (fifth) coffee. Unfortunately, she left the sound a bit too loud and the sound of gunfire filled the room. Margaery froze, dread rushing through her veins. _Oh, god. I'm dreaming, I'm still in the basement._ Her hand shook and a teaspoonful of coffee spilt in her lap. "Shit!' She swore, placing the cup on the table and frantically trying to wipe the coffee off her jumper. The guns seemed a lot quieter all of a sudden and Margaery felt a hand on her shoulder. "Get yourself cleaned up, I can take it from here." Sansa whispered, her expression and stance stubborn, immovable. Margaery sighed and nodded, getting out of her chair and rushing to the staff room. She threw her stained jumper into her pigeon hole and went to the sink. The face reflected in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. She had dark circles around her eyes, her hair was messy, her skin looked wan. Margaery took a deep breath and splashed some water on her face before checking her watch. _Not much point going back in now._ Instead, she wandered the building until the bell rang and she turned back to get her things. She passed Renly's office, the door was ajar and Sansa's voice was loud and clear to hear. "-maybe PTSD, I don't know. She just zoned out completely, and when I told her she should clean herself up she looked like a tramp." Renly's response was just as audible. "I'll deal with it. In any case, consider the offer, discuss it with your family and get back to me with your responses ASAP. We'll take every resource we can at this point." _You traitorous bastard. He must have lined her up as soon as I got kidnapped._ Sansa walked out of the office, humming to herself. Margaery waited for her to leave and stormed into Renly's office. "How long?"

"How long what?" Renly snapped. Margaery leaned over the desk. "How long have you been trying to replace me?" He just stared at her. "What the fuck are you talking about?" She gritted her teeth, "I heard you talking to Sansa, about me, about a job. Did you hire her just to spy on me or did you see her as competition with me?" Realisation dawned on Renly. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Margaery! Think about others for once in your lifetime. I hired her on a trial basis because I got a recommendation from several institutions that she's apparently a maestro at admin, something that, with the best will in the world, most of us are shit at. I thought you might need some help, especially since you shouldn't be here in the first place, and I was right. You look half-dead, Marge. The other offers were for her brothers, one as an intern and the other as a part-time football coach." He stopped to catch his breath and calm down for a second. "Now, if you weren't my boyfriend's sister and if your familiy weren't close friends of mine, I'd sack you right here and now. In fact, I'd happily take you by the collar and boot you out the door myself. But you are my friend, and you've had a traumatic experience. I'm putting you on forced leave until I get written confirmation from a licensed practising psychiatrist that you are in a good state of mind, is that understood?" Margaery scoffed. "You're telling me to visit a shrink?" Renly didn't smile. "If that is what it takes." He pulled a card out of his wallet. "Here." Margaery took the card, looked at it, and put it down. "No, I meant--" Margaery waved the card she'd been given by the cop. "Got one already."

Margaery gathered her things and walked back to her car. "Hey!" Sansa appeared at her elbow. "Are you okay? I set the kids the pages from chapter five onwards, was that right?" Margaery nodded, not wanting to meet the other woman's eye. "I know something that'll cheer you up! There's a party at my brother's house in a week's time. He got a promotion at work and my mum insisted on having a little celebration. There'll be room for you." _I suppose so... I do owe her one._ "Alright, email me the address, okay?" Sansa beamed, "Great! See you then!"


	4. Chapter 4

"You're a very relaxed psychiatrist, you know that?" Robb downed the last of his whiskey. "Shouldn't you be waving ink blots around, trying to help me divine the future?" Next to him, Jon snorted and almost choked on his Irish coffee. "Rorschach tests are a tried and tested psychiatric technique. Of course, you wouldn't understand a word of anything behind the theory, with your tiny, righteous, trigger-happy police officer brain." Tyrion responded testily, hiding a grin. Robb shrugged. "I leave that sort of thing to you, doc. I'm only interested in the answer to one question: am I insane?" Tyrion barked with laughter, "You, Robb Stark, are either the sanest person I know or the most terrifying being in the known universe. And I have given that assessment every single time you come here so I've stopped bothering to analyse you." Jon grinned, "Well, I'm definitely not scared of him so that rules out intergalactic terrorist." Tyrion chuckled and looked at his watch. "Fuck me! Is that the time? Right, I've got a new patient now so I'll see you at the weekend."

Margaery sat in the waiting room, checking her nails. The door swung open and two men walked out. One of them, tall, muscular and red-haired glanced at her on the way out and gave her a small smile. He seemed nice. "Miss Tyrell?" Margaery stood and entered. A small man was sat at his desk, tapping at a keyboard. He turned to her with a smile. "Hello. My name is Tyrion Lannister, you are Margaery Rose Tyrell? Currently teaching at King's Primary?" She nodded and sat down as he finished typing. "How may I help you?" Margaery took a deep breath. "Um... my boss told me to seek psychiatric help. I already had a recommendation from someone else that you were a good choice." Tyrion steepled his fingers and looked into her eyes. "Were you one of the Sparrows hostages?" She simply nodded. "I see. Was there a particular event that made your employer order you to come here or did he tell you right away?" Margaery wringed her hands. "He advised me against going to work in the morning, I chose to ignore him." Tyrion tilted his head. "But?" She rubbed her eyes. "But I put a video on about the Second World War and I left the volume too high. The gunshots..." He nodded. "I see. The gunshots put you back into the situation that you were in. How have you slept since the incident?" 

Margaery grimaced. "Not well. My assistant said I looked like a tramp." Tyrion nodded and punched a few commands into the computer. "Then that is a good place to begin. I'm prescribing you some anti-depressants, they should help your anxiety and your insomnia but I want you to come back to me in a week or too so I can tell if you've overdosed or we need to move to other therapy. There's something else I'd like to recommend but it is rather unorthodox. If you can find someone you trust implicitly, like a family member, see if you can confront what happened. I can pull some strings and get you into the building if you agree to it." He reached across and gave her his notes. "In the meantime, go enjoy yourself. I'm sure a beautiful young woman such as yourself has plans to execute and boys to terrorize." Margaery giggled. "I'll do my best, doctor."


	5. Chapter 5

_No, no, too slutty, no, no, no, why the fuck is this here?_ Margaery tore the old dress shirt from the wardrobe and threw it in the bin. _No, no. God, why is it so difficult to find something both stylish and comfortable these days?_ Eventually, she settled on a black t-shirt that left a little bit of skin exposed below her navel, relatively tight pale jeans and a grey cardigan. She put some small rose shaped earrings on and styled her hair so it fell neatly over her shoulders. Giving herself an appraising look in the mirror, she twirled a few times before checking outside her house. Sure enough, a small Volvo pulled up to the pavement. Margaery pulled on some trainers and headed out.

"Hi, sweetheart!" Sansa called from the passenger side door. "Small change of plan, my brother won't let us use his place so I managed to twist my very obliging boyfriend's arm into driving us to the bar." Margaery ducked into the back seats. "Okay." Sansa turned in her seat to make introductions. "Margaery, this is my boyfriend, Jon. Jon, this is Margaery, she's basically my boss." Jon turned in his seat and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you." Margaery took it and shook firmly. "You too." 

They reached the bar and Sansa led them to the back where there were a couple of tables. A slightly older but still quite striking woman approached and embraced Sansa. "There you are, little bird." She cooed. "Your father and I were worrying you weren't coming." Sansa laughed. "Oh, come on. Mum, you know I wouldn't miss a chance to see everyone." A man with kind, grey eyes and a warm, fatherly smile stepped up to them. "She means that her paranoia was getting the best of her." He chuckled, ignoring the smack he received from Sansa's mother. "How are my kids doing?" He pulled Jon and Sansa into his arms. "We're fine, Ned. No problems at all. Just all the red tape at work and everything means I have more time on my hands for a little." Jon responded. Ned nodded. "I understand, lad. I know it's a pain but it's the way we work." He shifted his gaze to Margaery. "You must be Margaery. Sansa told us all about you." She blushed a little. "Nothing too bad, I hope." Sansa laughed. "Come on, let's get a drink!"

After a few drinks and a lot of mingling, Margaery looked around at the tables in each of the corner. One was occupied by a small young woman making out heavily with a guy who looked like he could snap a grown man in half. Sat in the other corner was a man in a grey jumper, sipping water from a glass, seemingly lost in thought. She remembered what Tyrion had said about terrorizing boys and grinned to herself. _Operation White Blouse Down is a go._ Draining the last few drops in her glass, she slipped off the stool she was sitting on and walked over. "Not in the party mood?" Margaery called out. He looked up and gave her a wry smile. "Nah. I don't like being the centre of attention, especially from my extended family." She giggled. "Doesn't mean you have to be a monk about your drinking, right?" The man chuckled. "I suppose not, but I'm also the emergency driver just in case." Margaery sat opposite him. "My hero." She winked. He just shrugged. "I'm used to it. My best friend in college was like a vacuum for alcohol, and don't get me started on my dad's old mate. Holy hell, could that man chug." 

Margaery laughed a little more than she probably should have. "Come on, just one beer? My treat." He wagged a finger at her. "Not on my watch" He stood. "You stay here, I'll buy." Margaery grinned and stretched like a cat in the chair. "I'll be waiting." Her gaze followed him as he walked up to the bar. He glanced back at her a few times, giving her a small, almost shy, smile and she responded in kind. Just as he turned away to order, a younger, blonde man with leering green eyes and a cocky smile leaned over her. "What's your poison?" He asked. Margaery raised an eyebrow. "Who says I want another drink?" His smirk only became more pronounced. "I don't care much about that, but I like you." His gaze travelled to between her thighs. _Really smooth._ "That's nice to know, but it still doesn't matter. I don't need another drink." His eyes flickered in anger and he opened his mouth to retort, his hand moving to her knee. 

"You have a lot of nerve coming here after what you did to my sister." A voice so cold that Margaery thought her teeth might start clacking stated. The blonde haired perv turned around. The man in the jumper stood over them with a bottle of beer in each hand. His fingers were clenched so tightly each knuckle was white. "Get out of here." At first, the blonde man didn't respond. Then he pushed off roughly, pressing her knee painfully backwards. "Have fun with your little slut, Stark." He sneered and stalked out.

Stark sighed and sat back down, placing the bottles on the table. "Sorry about him, he's a cunt at the best of times." Margaery nodded. "So I see." She took a sip from the bottle. "I never caught your name. I'm Margaery, by the way." Stark smiled. "Robb, Robb Stark. I'm Sansa's brother." They shook hands. Margaery examined his arms. They looked strong and muscled, yet seemed like they'd be soft as a pillow to rest her head on. He had broad shoulders, a chiseled jaw and high cheekbones. She could definitely see the resemblance to Sansa, though she thought he seemed even more beautiful. _Whoa, hold it up there, Bella. This isn't a crappy romance novel._ Her internal tirade didn't even register when he smiled.

Sansa lay in Jon's arms at another table. She gently elbowed Jon. "See? I told you he'd like her. The last time he spoke to a girl as long as this, he was in a play." Jon's chest rumbled with quiet laughter. "Sansa Stark, matchmaker extraordinaire." Sansa giggled. "Now for the next phase." 

"So, even though he technically married six times, he only had two wives." Robb raised an eyebrow challengingly. "Correctomundo!" Margaery punched him on the shoulder playfully. Robb grinned. "I was a history bod in secondary school." Jon approached the table. "Sansa's not feeling great, Robb. I'm going to take her home. Could you take Margaery back to her place?" Robb glanced at Margaery and sighed. "I suppose so." He picked up his coat. "I can get a cab." Margaery pointed out, even though she didn't want to." Robb shook his head. "You're drunk and I... feel responsible. It's no trouble." He held out his hand.

"Here." Margaery pointed out her house and Robb turned in to the drive. He got out first and opened her door for her. She clambered out unsteadily and nearly fell against him. "Sorry, I'm such a lightweight." She slurred slightly. Robb chuckled and threw her arm over his shoulder, stooping to support her. "I've seen worse, trust me." Margaery fumbled a little with the lock but managed to open the door. "Just leave me on the sofa." She instructed. Robb nodded and lowered her onto it. "Comfy?" He crouched beside her. Margaery smiled sleepily. "Yeah." Her hand ran along his jaw and she pressed a kiss to his lips. He responded, his hand holding on to her arm. He stroked her skin with his thumb as she pulled back. He grinned down at her. "You know, I never got your full name." Margaery laughed. "Margaery. Margaery Tyrell." In her inebriated state, she didn't notice his eyes widening or the blood draining from his face. Robb slipped away from her, murmuring about needing the toilet. He glared at himself in the mirror. _I can't._ When he returned to the living room, Margaery was asleep. He watched her for a second, wrote down a note and left it on the kitchen counter, before walking out the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've very quickly decided that Drunk Margaery is one of my favorite characters to write. And, if this confuses people, don't worry. All will be cleared up in a few chapters.


End file.
